Loon
He calls out for you as he floats along Lake Minakwa, but you speed by…
John Prine lost his mind and wrote a song about him, “Crazy as a Loon” he called it.
His peaceful drawn out bellow will steady you to sleep even on the roughest of waters.
He can live through the frigid mornings of a Wisconsin spring with valor, as you freeze to death in your eight foot fishing boat that pitter-patters along.
He’ll soar above and dive deep into the black lake after spotting breakfast and you’ll watch with worship.
Stringy wheat-like grasses line the lake where you and he live—he’s unfazed by your angst.
You sit with a pole, in an empty boat surrounded by a lake filled with fish.
He often wonders which one is “crazy,” you or him.
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